It was Simon who made the request that was to change my thoughts about having another lodger. Steph was a sister in the A&E department and a respected colleague. She and her husband had separated and the house had been sold. As her new house was still being built and wouldn’t be ready for a couple of months, Simon asked if I’d let her have Jane’s old room. According to Simon, she was just into her fifties, there was no one else in her life and it would only be for a short time. After meeting her, I agreed.
Steph was no trouble and we got along OK. There wasn’t the friendship with her that I’d enjoyed with Jane. Steph ate few meals with me. Mostly she was out in the evenings and a lot of the weekend. Her house was completed on time and she moved out exactly as had been planned. As she was leaving, she handed me a small package as a thank-you for allowing her to stay with me. I opened it up. It was a small box about four inches by four and about three-quarters of an inch thick. When I opened that, I was shocked. It was a pretty pendant on a chain. I had no idea what stone it was, but it looked expensive.
"This is much too much," I started to say but she interrupted me.
"I made it, especially for you." I was stunned. I knew nothing really about her private life, or what she had been doing in her evenings and weekends. "I started designing and making jewellery a couple of years ago, more for something to do than anything else. I like jewellery, but couldn't afford what I liked in the shops. The stone is Carnelian. The colour is caused by iron oxide, or rust, so I thought it was appropriate. It is supposed to stimulate the energy of love and joy, which I again thought was appropriate, as you have been a joy as a landlady and you always seem cheerful."
"Thank you! Thank you!" I had never expected to receive anything for letting her stay with me. She had paid me rent and been no trouble at all. I hugged her. She smiled as she loaded her suitcases into the car and waved as she drove away.
After Steph, my house became an unofficial lodging for a series of Simon’s colleagues who were temporarily in need of short term accommodation. The connections with Simon, though, were getting more and more tenuous. People who had stayed with me recommended me to their friends and eventually, in early April, Cynthia became my lodger, ostensibly for three months.
Cynthia was fifty seven, and didn’t even work at the hospital. She was a friend of one of the women who’d stayed with me a few months earlier. She was slim but not tall and quite plain looking. When I met her, she was dressed neatly and conservatively from, I guessed, some of the cheaper chain stores. I gave her the usual guidelines that I didn’t want men-friends staying over night. She laughed and said there was no chance of that happening. I wasn’t sure what she meant, so I added quickly “Or women friends.” Again she laughed. We agreed terms and she moved in on a Tuesday.
From day one, she talked non-stop about her only child, Wayne. Wayne was twenty five, very good-looking, intelligent – he had been to university and earned a 2:1, well behaved and had a good job as a trainee project manager for a construction company. According to Cynthia. There was no doubting she was very proud of him. I felt uncomfortable; felt there was an agenda to all this information. I wondered if she was considering me as his next girlfriend. He’d just finished with his last one, the daughter of a consultant surgeon at another hospital.
It was on the Thursday that her agenda became clearer. Would I let Wayne stay here for the weekend? He’d be no trouble and could sleep on the couch. It wasn’t as if she was having a man staying for sex, she explained. And they’d be out a lot of the time. I hesitated. She’d pay for him to stay, on a per night basis, she offered and mentioned a realistic sum of money. I could have refused but for some reason I didn’t.
Wayne presented me with a bunch of yellow roses when he arrived. The flower of friends, he told me, as he hoped we’d be friends. He was indeed good-looking; about five eight in height, he was athletic but well built. He looked older than his age, maybe thirty, chatted a lot and was quick witted. He soon made me laugh as he told jokes at his own expense. He’d brought a sleeping bag so as not to dirty sheets and a quilt. I was pleased I’d allowed him to visit.
I didn’t see much of either of them that weekend and when he asked if he could stay the next weekend as well, I had no hesitation in agreeing. All the following week Cynthia wasted no opportunity in pointing out Wayne’s good qualities and seeking my agreement. “It was so thoughtful bringing you flowers, don’t you think?” “He’s such a good looking boy, don’t you agree?” “Not many men would have thought to bring a sleeping bag to save you having to wash bedclothes, would they?” The list went on and on. I had to agree, not just out of politeness, but because what she was saying was true. What little of him I’d seen, I liked. I just wished she wouldn’t go on about him.
The following weekend was wet, very wet. Cynthia and Wayne didn’t go out as planned. To compensate, Cynthia offered to cook a meal on the Saturday evening. She went shopping on her own, leaving Wayne and me to get better acquainted. “Mum does go on, doesn’t she?” were his first words after she left the house. It broke whatever tension there might have been between us as I laughingly agreed. He told me Cynthia was a very good cook and she’d probably be cooking beef-wellington as it was one of her favourites. Sure enough, that was what she’d planned for us. I was sent out of my own kitchen while she prepared the meal.
While Cynthia was out shopping, he’d told me something of her history. She’d given up hope of having a family and was amazed to find herself pregnant after twelve years of marriage. She regarded him as her ‘little miracle’. Little wonder that she was so obsessed with him. His father was a school teacher at a mixed school. He taught sports. His mother had known for several years that he was having an affair with one of the other teachers, but she hadn’t let on. As far as she was concerned, as long as he was still the breadwinner and paid the bills, she was happy to keep up the appearance of a happy marriage. And it suited his father. He and his lover were both very discreet. Both were married and neither wanted a full time commitment. His mum had told him they hadn’t had sex since before he went to university, that was over seven years ago. She’d never taken a lover. He doubted she ever would.
Wayne explained that everything changed a little less than six months ago. His father’s lover’s husband had dropped dead suddenly. He’d had a heart attack. His lover now didn’t want to be on her own. His dad had left his mum and started divorce proceedings. I felt sympathy for her. I might even have liked her if she talked a lot less, and less about Wayne. Wayne didn’t need her fighting her corner for him. He had enough charm, intelligence and wit not to need anyone else’s recommendation.
It was a novel experience for me. Although Jane had cooked meals for me, no one had ever barred me from my kitchen. I knew it was never easy to cook in someone else’s kitchen. No two ovens are identical and each has its own eccentricities. My oven always seemed to be about ten degrees less than it was supposed to be. I always made adjustments accordingly. I wondered how Cynthia would cope. Despite suspecting she was using the occasion to allow Wayne and me to be alone together, I hoped it turned out well. And not just because I was looking forward to an enjoyable meal. She was making an effort to do something special for me. Whatever her real motive, I appreciated that.
Dinner was excellent. The starter of pear, walnut, and stilton salad was mouth watering and, for me at least, unusual. The fillet steak was pink but not red and the pastry fluffy. Artichokes were a vegetable I’d never had before but which I enjoyed. And the desert of baked Alaska finished the meal perfectly. I was impressed by what Cynthia had achieved in a strange kitchen. I had a new respect for her. And the portions were ideal; neither too much nor too little. Wayne had a smile that indicated he was pleased with his mother’s efforts.
I hadn’t realised it at the time, but Cynthia had been much quieter than normal during the meal. If she’d been nervous about my reaction, I’d have to think how I could keep her nervous in the future. The whole experience was better than I could have dreamed. Afterwards, we sat and chatted. Again, Cynthia didn’t dominate the conversation as normal. Conversation was equally shared. We were discussing plays we had seen when Cynthia said there was a play at the Criterion the following weekend that she and Wayne would like to see and would I like to join them? It was an amateur production but the Loepold Players had an excellent reputation. It was some years since I had been to the theatre and the idea appealed to me, so I agreed.
I hadn’t realised how much I was looking forward to the next weekend. Cynthia had insisted that it was to be their treat. They would take me to a good restaurant first before going to the theatre; make it a really good treat for me. It was a surprise, but a very pleasant one. The change in Cynthia was more than welcome. When she wasn’t thrusting Wayne at me she was intelligent and good company. And Wayne too was easy to get on with.
I had heard of the play we were going to see – Equus, but knew little about it except it had received rave reviews and outrage when first performed. I checked on the internet at work; there was nudity, both male and female, which had caused the outrage. I was interested to see how amateurs dealt with it.
About ten o’clock on the Friday night, Cynthia received a phone call from her sister. Cynthia’s niece was in hospital with a suspected stroke. She was only thirty three and had two daughters, both under ten years of age. Cynthia decided she ought to go and see her niece and apologised she wouldn’t be able to go to the theatre with us as she had planned. Just before we left for the Theatre on the Saturday evening, she rang to tell us her niece hadn’t had a stroke but had something called labyrinthitis. It was something that had similar symptoms to a stroke but was a middle-ear infection. She would be coming back on the Sunday evening.